Acrophobia
by noiproksa
Summary: Neal is trapped on the rooftop of a burning building, on the phone with Peter as his only lifeline.


**Notes**: Originally posted on my livejournal for a prompt on collarcorner.

* * *

**Acrophobia**

* * *

"Just - close your eyes and jump. As easy as that. In a few seconds you'll stand right here beside me and we'll have a good laugh about it."

Neal seriously doubted that he'd laugh about this situation any time soon. He cast a quick look over his shoulder to see if the flames had made it onto the roof - his last refuge in his attempt to escape the burning building.

Eight stories didn't seem that far up if you were safe and secure inside - try working on the twenty-first floor day in, day out - but it sure seemed like a long way to fall if you stood at the edge of a rooftop and had people - Peter to be specific - tell you that you had to jump into a makeshift security net consisting of a shabby blanket that a handful of agents were holding out for him.

He directed his attention back to his cell phone and tried to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Easy for you to say! You're the one standing on solid ground." _On solid ground_ came out more shaky than he would have liked, but Peter would just have to cut him some slack.

He took a step closer to the edge to see if he could make out who of the ant-sized people was Peter but quickly stepped back again. A long way to fall indeed.

"Neal, listen to me. We'll catch you. Trust me. It's going to be fine."

The smoke was making it harder to make out where he would even have to aim for and this really wasn't the kind of situation where you wanted to miss your target.

"I don't know, your 'security net' looks pretty tiny from up here. Maybe you could get a bigger one. Wouldn't want to just miss it by a couple feet."

"It's plenty big enough." Peter's voice didn't even shake a little bit, it was steady and calm and drove Neal just a little bit nuts.

"Yeah, no. I think I'm gonna look for another way out of here if you don't mind."

"Neal - there is no other way out!" And how could Peter stay so damn calm?! Oh, that's right, he wasn't the one about to be either burned alive or have his insides splattered on the sidewalk.

"How's about a helicopter?" Neal knew he was grasping at straws here but it was worth a shot.

"Neal -"

"Or … I could … I could ..." He shot another look over his shoulder - and damn, did fire always spread so fast?

And that's when he realized that he was out of ideas - which was a first for him. There was _always_ more than one way out of any given situation. He just wasn't thinking straight! The smoke must have addled his brain. If he could just think clearly for a few seconds he would come up with a plan that did not involve him being splattered across the sidewalk eight stories down.

"Neal!" Peter's voice brought him out of his thoughts once more.

"You're just going to have to trust us to catch you. Think of it as one of those trust building exercises where you close your eyes and let yourself fall, trusting the others to catch you. Only you're going to fall a little farther before you're caught."

Everything down there looked really far away and Neal tried to estimate how high eight stories were in feet and how fast he'd fall if he took into consideration the standard acceleration. The blanket didn't seem all that trustworthy. What if it ripped at the speed he'd be falling?

After looking down for a few seconds too long, he felt a wave of vertigo coming on, and he quickly blinked his eyes a couple of times. Maybe it was the damn acrid smoke that made him cough and burned in his eyes.

"Neal, you there?"

"You know, I've never been afraid of heights."

"That's - good," came the cautious reply.

"I kind of am now, though," he admitted quickly. And then, when Peter didn't say anything, "You know, a little bit."

"Neal -" There was some rustling at the other end of the line. Maybe Peter had sighed into the cell or maybe he had just switched ears. Either way it made Neal think that Peter might not be all that in control of the situation after all.

"I know it doesn't look like it right now, but there really is nothing to be afraid of. You jump, we catch you. People do it all the time."

"Yeah, on TV maybe."

"Well, then we're all set seeing as that's exactly the kind of stunt you usually pull."

Neal took a deep breath - or tried to, anyway, but inhaled more smoke than air - and blew it out. Then he stepped right up to the edge once again. "Okay. I'm just gonna … And you're sure it's safe?"

"Yes. I'm sure," Peter said, his voice firm.

Neal closed his eyes, and - he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Every time he stepped up to the edge, ready to jump, something made him step back again. He sighed, frustrated with himself and the whole situation.

The heat was getting unbearable, and Neal could feel a tickle of sweat running down his temple. All he wanted was to be down there with Peter and his team, but there was just no way he could make that jump.

"I'm sorry Peter, but I really think we should consider some other options."

There was a slight pause at the other end of the line.

"Okay."

"What?"

"Okay. Let's hear them."

"I … I don't … Okay." Brainstorming. He was good at that. He could totally do that. "I … If I had some sort of rope …"

"Which you don't."

"Okay, granted." Neal swallowed nervously, his brain in high gear thinking about alternative escape routes. "But if I weren't on the rooftop but on the, say, fourth or fifth floor ..."

"Which you aren't."

"Yeah, but maybe I could try and get ..."

"No, you can't."

"You're not helping here, Peter!" Neal yelled, which only made him cough again. He was slowly but surely losing control of the situation, which was a feeling he seriously didn't like.

"Come on, Neal, we don't have all day!" It was the first time Peter sounded anything but calm and collected, and ironically that was what made Neal feel a little better. He didn't like being the only one who freaked out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, am I keeping you from important paperwork?" he retorted and somehow this seemed more like familiar ground to him. He could almost imagine he was in any kind of non-life-threatening situation arguing with Peter.

But Peter didn't seem to be that fond of the illusion because he went ahead and ruined it by saying, "We have no idea how much longer the building will hold up."

"Oh, that's making me feel much better, thanks." Neal ran a shaking hand through his hair. A third way of dying he hadn't even considered up to that point.

He quickly scanned his surroundings but it was getting harder to make anything out through the threatening flames and the thick smoke. Was the fire already eating away at the support beams? And those cracks he occasionally heard could very well be objects falling through the floor on lower levels.

"We're doing this on the count of three, okay?" came Peter's voice over the phone after a short period of silence. Neal decided that Peter's plans sucked. "One …"

"You know why Griffith didn't just take the money and leave?" Neal interrupted his countdown.

"No. And I don't care either. Stop stalling!"

"Because he had even more stuff to fence before he could leave," Neal said hastily before Peter could continue his stupid countdown. "The Guggenheim job was just the tip of the iceberg."

"That's nice. Neal, I really need you to take the jump right now."

"Yeah, you know, about that … shouldn't the firemen be here about now? Maybe I should just wait for the professionals to …"

"Neal, you take the jump right now!" Peter said with the most authoritative tone of voice Neal had ever heard him use. "_I_ know you can do it, _you_ know you can do it, so stop messing around!"

Before Neal could react to that, a loud crashing noise made him spin around. Peter hadn't been kidding about the instability of the building. Unfortunately, the moment of surprise and his hectic movement made him drop his cell. He tried to catch it, but it was already too late, his cell fell off the building and was soon engulfed by the smoke.

Even though Neal could hear sirens in the distance and the uncanny noise of the fire that appeared to be all around him, everything seemed too silent all of a sudden.

His last link to the world on the ground - to Peter - was … gone. Just like that.

By now, each breath he took burned in his lungs and brought tears to his eyes. What if there really was no way down there, no way to escape the flames that were almost upon him?

But then, suddenly, he wasn't feeling alone anymore. Maybe it was the fact that he'd been on the phone with Peter for the last ten minutes, going over the same arguments time and again but he imagined he could still hear Peter's voice. Which was ridiculous of course because there was simply no way he could hear him talk over the sirens and the fire and the eight stories that separated them. Maybe it was just the last few words Peter had said to him on the cell before he'd dropped it. But he kept hearing _Take the jump, Neal_, and, _Trust me._And he did both.

* * *

It was strange how one moment could seem like it lasted forever and the next thing you know everything moves at the speed of light. The one step over the edge had taken forever but then he had landed on the blanket and people had applauded and then all at once the firemen were there (of course, _that's_ when they would finally show up) and he was handed an oxygen mask.

It was only when the all too familiar adrenaline crash set in that he thought to go looking for Peter. Shortly after he had landed, Peter had given him a pat on the shoulder and a gruff, "About damn time! I thought I'd have to come up there and kick your ass myself." Which had been a rather ridiculous statement, seeing as the whole problem had been that you couldn't just come up or go down.

Either way, that had been the last he had seen of Peter, so now he looked around and spotted him sitting on the sidewalk a few feet away from the commotion of the firemen trying to get the burning building under control and the agents running about.

Neal stepped up to him and sat down beside him. "Why do _you _look so pale? I'm the one who almost got toasted."

Peter huffed an unamused laugh, but didn't look up. "Must be all the smoke inhalation."

"Yeah. There's a lot of that going around. You want a whiff?" He held out his oxygen mask to Peter. "It's the good stuff. Best O2 there is - or so I've been told."

"Nah, you keep that, I'm good."

"You sure?" Neal held the mask out invitingly for another few seconds, and when Peter didn't take it, he shrugged and inhaled deeply himself. His throat was still scratchy and he suspected he wouldn't get rid of the ashy taste any time soon.

When he was done, and Peter still couldn't seem to come up with a topic of conversation, Neal explained, "They insisted I take it. I tried arguing that I was out in the open and not trapped inside but they wouldn't listen. 'Sides, who am I to turn down free oxygen?"

"Well, there was an awful lot of smoke," Peter countered, the intent to quibble obvious, but his voice way too serious.

"True." Neal shrugged his shoulders in a devil-may-care gesture and shot Peter a quick sidelong glance. Seemed like he wasn't the only one coming down from an adrenaline high. Peter had seemed so secure and confident on the phone but maybe that had really just been for Neal's benefit.

Neal quickly looked away, trying to hide a grin.

But Peter, being Peter, never missed out on anything and turned to Neal. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. Just …" Neal gestured at him, still trying to hide his grin. "You're pretty freaked out."

"Excuse me? I'm not the one who took a half an hour to jump into a perfectly safe safety net."

"Second-hand blanket that happened to be on the back seat of your car, you mean," Neal corrected.

"That was a brand new blanket!"

"That you bought for Satchmo, right?"

"Well, be glad that I did!"

They were silent for a moment, Neal still grinning because - well, in comparison to being stuck on a burning building, anything seemed like paradise. And arguing with Peter more so than most things.

Still, there was something he couldn't quite let go. "_You take the jump right now, Neal!"_ he imitated Peter. "Seriously? You do realize that that tone of voice usually makes me want to do the exact opposite, right?"

Peter looked at him and rolled his eyes. "Well, _that_ certainly explains a lot!"

"But seriously," Neal said, his grin turning into an honest smile, "Thanks. For, you know, metaphorically kicking my ass into taking the jump."

"Yeah, don't mention it." Peter returned his smile. "Kicking your ass is what I'm good at."

"Hey, that reminds me. Did someone catch my phone by any chance?" When Peter just shot him an incredulous look, he continued, "What? It was a new cell! It had a camera and games and everything!"

Peter just shook his head. "As long as you have your priorities straight."

"I'm just saying. The way I see it, the bureau owes me a high-tech cell phone."

"The way I see it, you owe me a blanket. That one is certainly ruined because of all the smoke."

Neal just looked at Peter for a few moments. This was exactly what he had wished for when he had been standing on that rooftop, thinking that he'd maybe never have it again.

"Yeah. I think I owe you a little more than that."

The End.


End file.
